


Atwater Market

by WrathoftheStag



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Family, Food, Gen, Love, Love and Marriage, M/M, Montreal, Mostly Dialog, Shopping, atwater market, bob and bitty being awesome together, bob and bitty hanging out, future zimbits - Freeform, location-based fics, relationships, talk about marriage, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrathoftheStag/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: "The thing is, for someone who loves to bake, for someone that shows love through food, finding someone with a healthy appetite is nice.  Is there anything better?"Bob and Eric go shopping for dinner fixings and talk about love and family.





	Atwater Market

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing about food and about places, so this combined two things I love. Mostly dialog. I just wanted to write a quick little piece about Bob and Eric being so close and comfortable together. I like to imagine this is what their relationship might be like.

“There’s a popular cheesemonger down that aisle.”

Eric smiled. “Cheesemonger, huh?”

Bob took a sip of his coffee and smirked. “Yes, cheesemonger, and also a superb fishmonger is just across the aisle from him.”

“That’s a lot of mongering,” Eric chirped.

The two made their way through Atwater Market shopping for dinner items. Jack and Eric had arrived in Montreal last night, and while Alicia and Jack caught up back at the house, Bob and Eric volunteered to go the market. Although, it wasn’t much of a sacrifice on their part to go off on their own, especially when food was involved. 

It wasn’t unusual for them to go on food excursions whenever their stars lined up—a new restaurant in the neighborhood, a food truck they followed on social media, a cookbook signing by a favorite chef. (One year, Alicia bought them each matching aprons as a joke. She had no idea they would both take to them immediately and wear them with enthusiasm.)

Jack and Coach had, long ago, come to some sort of agreement in their relationship and it had taken a while to build, but for Eric and Bob, it had somehow always been effortless. Ever since that “Clutch shot, son,” Eric had felt that Bob was in his corner.

“I’m surprised I hadn’t brought you here yet,” Bob said they walked.

“This reminds me of Pike Place,” Eric said. “The last time we went out to visit Chowder, Jack and I attacked Piroshky Piroshky. So good!”

Aisle after aisle, Eric smiled as he took it all in. Produce, butchers, cheese sellers, tiny restaurants, and flower shops sat nestled within various vendor kiosks and stands housed in the art deco building they currently explored. A cacophony of English and Québécois peppered the atmosphere with vigor.

“So what do we need for the jambalaya?” Eric asked as he stopped at a fruit vendor.

“Green pepper, onion, chicken thighs, we have to stop at _Les Cochons_ for sausage—we have rice at home, so we’re good there,” Bob said looking at his list. He chucked his coffee cup in the trash and continued. “Other than that, just whatever goodies you want to bring back but make sure we get everything. I don’t want to have to run out to the _dép_, later.”

“Should we take some sweets?” Eric strolled over to a crate of peaches, picked one up, and smelled it. He smiled at the man who owned the stand.

“If you don’t feel like baking tonight, then yes, we should. We’ll stop at _Première Moisson_,” Bob replied. 

Eric nodded and put several peaches in his tote bag.

“We can grill these and serve them with blue cheese,” he said as he began to pay the man. “Oh my god, look at these dates!”

Bob picked up a container of dates and grinned.

“Bacon-wrapped dates!” they both yelled at the same time.

“Here, let’s take two,” Bob said and nodded at the man.

“Do we have stuff at the house for a quiche tomorrow?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, I got some leeks, too, just for the quiche.”

“Nice.”

“Should we get some flowers?”

“Sure,” Eric said as he looped his arm around Bob’s. 

Their touching was always natural. Despite his moniker, Bob was actually quite affectionate and a touchy-feely person, and he always had an arm slung around Eric or Jack, a kiss ready to be pressed onto Alicia’s cheek. 

“When we first started dating, I had a bouquet delivered to Alicia each week—no matter where she was.”

“Robert, you smoothie!”

“Hey, I had to stick out from all the other schmucks who were trying to woo her.”

“Did she fawn all over you? What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Knock it off.’”

Eric laughed. “Knock it off?”

“Yeah, she said that it was too expensive to be sending her flowers all the time and they would be dead in less than a week, so what was the point.”

“Well, now I see where Jack gets his bluntness from.”

Bob shrugged. “So I stopped, but you know what?”

Eric shook his head.

“Years later, I found that she had pressed and dried one flower from each bouquet. I found them in a box in our bedroom. When I asked her about it, she muttered something about minding my own business.”

Eric laughed. 

“Here,” Bob pointed. “The butcher I like is here.”

“Hey, Bob,” the butcher waved as he smiled at them both as they entered the small shop.

“Marcel, how’s it going?”

“Not bad. It’s good to see you.”

“This is my son-in-law, Eric.”

The man smiled. “_Ouais_, Eric. Good to finally meet you.”

“Aw, you talk about me?” Eric said as he chirped Bob and elbowed him gently.

“Of course, son.”

“He’s always bragging. My son this, my son that. My son-in-law this, my son-in-law that… It’s kind of annoying.”

Bob threw his head back in laughter as Marcel grinned.

“So what can I get you?”

“I need some sausage for jambalaya but what else you got? What’s good?” 

“Here, try this,” Marcel said and offered them a small tray filled with chunks of sausage skewered with toothpicks.

They each took a sample and Eric chewed thoughtfully.

“It’s our new Toulouse sausage,” Marcel said.

“It’s good,” Bob said as he took another.

“Is that nutmeg,” Eric asked as he savored the piece a bit longer, “and ginger I taste?” 

Marcel smiled. “Bob, it's about time you brought an expert with you.”

Bob laughed again as he helped himself to another piece.

An hour later, Bob’s insulated bag was filled with chicken, sausage, and cheese, while Eric’s tote bag was filled with fruit and various baked goods.

They were chatting idly about Eric’s manuscript when Eric saw a man with a small child on his shoulders. He smiled as he watched the dad tickle his son’s feet as the boy squealed then placed his chin on top of his father’s head, cupping his chin with both chubby hands. 

Eric imagined Jack sitting on top of his papa’s shoulders, feeling as though he was on top of the world—able to conquer almost anything put in his path. 

“Did you bring Jack here when he was little?” 

Bob glanced at the man and his son, smiled softly and shook his head.

“By the time he was that age, we were already in Pittsburgh, and when we’d come back to visit family, we never really made it out here. When we finally moved back to Montreal, Jack was pretty much doing his own thing and didn’t really want to hang out with us anymore.”

“That must have been hard, huh?” 

“You know how it is. You reach a certain age, and you think you know better. You want to do what you want to do, and part of you feels like you don’t need your parents anymore.”

Eric shook his head. “I always needed my mama and had her. Always. It’s Coach I wish I’d been closer to when I was younger.”

Bob patted Eric’s hand. “He should have been there for you like I should have been there more for Jack.”

“You two did the best you could; we know that.”

“I know,” he said as he gave Eric’s hand a quick squeeze. “You know what I think we need?” 

“What?”

“Soft serve, come on.”

“Ooo, you know what I love and can never, ever find? Strawberry soft serve.”

“I’ve never had it.”

“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing. One day, we’ll find some for you and Jack.”

“It sounds like you’ve nailed the most solid foundation for a successful marriage right there, son.”

“Oh?”

“Scoring top-shelf food finds for your spouse.”

Eric laughed. “Really, that’s all? Then I guess I’ve been marriaging wrong this entire time what with the love and mutual respect and all. Although… on second thought. Scratch that, I have that boy knee-deep in amazing foods.”

Bob smiled. “It’s nice to see, you know?”

“What?”

“You two being happily married.”

Eric shrugged. “Jack makes it easy. I mean, there are days when he’s gone so much I want to throttle him, and he never puts the toilet seat down, and I have to ask him to throw out the garbage like five times before he does it, but yeah, he’s a good egg. He’s really sweet.”

“Marriage takes a lot of work, and you two are dedicated to it, so that’s a good start. I’ll never forget the look on Jack’s face at your wedding.”

Eric smiled. “His face?”

“Yeah,” Bob said then chuckled. “It was like he had a Cup Day, a hattie, and a slice of your pie all rolled into one.”

“That’s one way to make my head big,” Eric laughed.

Bob stopped walking. “No, I’m not kidding. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. You love him for all that he is and never wanted anything from him but his honesty and love. You never tried to change him or force him into something he wasn’t ready for. He knows what he has—and so do you.”

Eric inhaled deeply. “Jack is one of the bravest, strongest people I know, and I know how private he can be, how guarded. So it’s incredible that he lets himself be vulnerable with me. He trusts me that much… and I trust him just the same.”

Bob smiled. “I know. I can see it. That’s how I knew you two were perfect for each other.”

Eric smacked Bob on the chest. “Listen, do _not_ make me cry in the middle of a market, old man.”

Bob grinned. “My point is that the point is you two know marriage is hard, and you put in the work. Neither of you looks for any shortcuts, and you have each other’s backs. Now stop with the sniffling and let’s get some ice cream.”

The two made their way toward _La Cabane Bar Laitier_ and ordered two cones. Eric paid and handed one chocolate vanilla swirl to Bob and took the other for himself. They were just about to dig in when someone approached them.

«Excuse me, Bad Bob? Sorry to bother you. Could I get an autograph»?

«Yeah, yeah. Sure. No problem».

He handed his cone to Eric.

«Who should I make it out to»?

«My wife, Marie. She probably loves you more than I do», the man said with a grin. 

Bob laughed and shook his head.

«To Marie. You have good taste in husbands», Bob said as he wrote it out on the napkin the man had given him.

The man laughed and clapped Bob on the back.

«This is my grandson, Marc. He plays hockey, too. A winger.»

«A winger! That’s great. Good luck, son.» Bob said to the teen who blushed and nodded.

«Thanks, Bad Bob», the older man replied. «And your kid is doing great, eh»?

The man glanced at Eric and shot him a quick smile.

«Yes! He is, thank you». 

«Wish him luck on the upcoming season».

«I’ll tell him, thanks».

Bob smiled and turned to Eric, who smiled and handed him back his cone as the man walked away happily looking at the napkin.

“That still happen often?”

“Not as often as it used to, but it’s nice here. People are respectful of me and Alicia—and you and Jack. It’s good. How’s that cone?”

“Amazing!” Eric took a big, messy lick. “Also, you’ll be happy to know that I understood like 90% of that conversation.”

“Really?”

“80%—well, actually 70,75%, but the point is I’m getting there... 65%.”

“Son, it’s time you accept that languages are not your forte and that Jack and I will forever be chirping you and you won’t understand it.”

“Rude!” Eric said with a laugh as Bob chuckled. “Look, I am perfectly capable of ordering off any menu in French.”

“Well, that’s handy.”

Eric grinned. He glanced back at the man who was showing off the napkin to the teenager he was with.

"That was his grandson, right?”

Bob nodded. “Yep, a hockey player.”

“Poor child…”

Bob laughed. “When the siren calls, you answer. Speaking of grandchildren, when am I going to get some? I need new blood for the Zimmermann team.”

“We've only been married a year! I can’t be thinking about babies right now.” 

"_Babies_, plural! I like your thinking.”

“Good Mary, Lord have mercy—of course, you would pick up on that one word over anything else.”

“Do you know how many tiny Habs onesies I could buy?”

“Habs!” Eric snorted. “Oh, I’m sure Jack would love that.”

Bob mimed rocking a baby, and Eric laughed.

“Moving on! You know what would be fun? If you teach me some things to say in Québécois that would freak Jack out.”

“You’re bad, son,” Bob laughed. “I like it.”

“Psssh! You act as if you don’t know me.”

“Hmm… let’s see. Okay, the next time you’re hungry tell Jack, ‘_J’ai la langue à terre_.’”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that you have your tongue on the floor, but it’s an expression meaning you’re either very tired or starving.”

“J’ai la… j’ai la langue… we’ll get back to that one. Another.”

“When something bad happens, you can say _enterrement de crapaud_. It means the burial of the toad.”

Eric wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I hope I don’t have to use that one.”

“You can use it when you burn a pie or something; it doesn’t have to be dire.”

“Burn a pie?” Eric said, offended. “Yeah, I definitely won’t be using that one.”

Bob laughed and shook his head. “Right, sorry.”

Eric's phone beeped, and he quickly pulled it out. It was a text from Jack.

“Miss you already?” Bob teased, just as his phone beeped.

“Ha, well, not a bad problem to have, right?” Eric shot back as he raised an eyebrow. 

“Indeed,” Bob said as he unlocked his phone.

Eric read through his text from Jack and laughed. “Your son says he is starving and actually inserted a crying emoji.”

“Ooo, ask him if he wants to order pizza from Il Focolaio. We can eat it while you and I make dinner,” Bob said excitedly.

“I can tell you already the answer to that will be yes. Lord, that boy can eat, and I absolutely love it.”

Bob laughed, “Well, food is a wonderful thing.”

“Once, when we were still dating, we went to George’s house. She was having a barbecue and grilling steak for tacos. Jack must have eaten about ten tacos in one sitting, and he was still looking for seconds.” 

“Jack’s always been a hearty eater,” Bob added.

“I know, and it’s perfect… That’s when I knew, he really, really, truly was meant for me.”

“Corny,” Bob said with a chirpy grin.

Eric smiled wistfully. “The thing is, for someone who loves to bake, for someone that shows love through food, finding someone with a healthy appetite is nice. Is there anything better? Seconds, thirds? Yes, please eat all of the things I am making to show you how much I care for you.”

Bob smiled softly. “Come on, let’s go cook for these ingrates.” 

Eric laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Atwater Market](https://www.marchespublics-mtl.com/en/marches/atwater-market/) in Montreal.
> 
> All OMGCP characters by Ngozi Ukazu.
> 
> Come and say [hello on Tumblr](https://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/187799538489/atwater-market), and reblog if you like. :)


End file.
